Rondeau Fatigue


What have I done? This choice I’ve made
Resulted in a long parade
Of stodgy poems, devoid of grace,
That stumble past, not keeping pace,
While melodies too quickly fade.

It’s my own fault, this daft crusade.
I chose this form, my self betrayed.
I wonder now can I save face?
What have I done?

The month drags on, while I, dismayed,
Lament its welcome overstayed.
Tortured, I have reached that place
Where nothing grows but my disgrace.
Must I continue this charade?
What have I done?


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